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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395977">Mind Over Matter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest'>seekrest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Maybe In Another Universe [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Upload (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Discussions of Capitalism, F/M, Inspired by Upload, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, back on my bs, its just me and my whims now, this is a weird one kids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:35:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395977</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Darkness. </p><p>That’s the first thing Michelle is aware of. Complete and utter darkness. </p><p>But then a voice - low, peaceful yet totally unfamiliar begins to speak - a beacon calling out to her as it says, “Hello Michelle. I’m not expecting you to answer me yet. The system is sorting through a lot of information but I’m going to count to three. Try to count with me.”</p><p>Michelle tries but finds that she can’t, unsure if she even has a body as the voice - a guy she thinks - says, “One. Two. Three.” </p><p>A soft melody begins to play in the background, shapes and sounds all around her starting to blur in and out of focus as Michelle groans. </p><p>“Welcome to upload.”</p><p>—</p><p>An Upload AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Peter Parker, Michelle Jones &amp; Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Maybe In Another Universe [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Welcome to Upload</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I binge watched Upload on amazon and had a lot of feelings about it. OF COURSE I HAD TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.</p><p>Endless thanks to spideyfic, notapartytrick and grace_d who first chatted about it and yelled how great it was for PeterMJ. ESPECIALLY to Grace who offered to beta and listened to my existential musings about this.</p><p>Buckle up kids. We in for a weird one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The subway car rattled as Peter held on tightly to the bar ahead of him, swaying slightly as it moves along the track.</p><p>It was cramped, as it always was on his way to work - forcing Peter’s whole body to shift until he was right in front of a guy watching some movie on his palm-screen, Peter snooping for a moment before the guy looked at him.</p><p>Peter gives him a sheepish smile, gripping the bar ahead of him tighter to try and lean back only for the guy to flip the palm-screen - giving him the chance to watch the movie with him.</p><p>The guy smiles at him encouragingly, Peter smiling a little more genuinely as they watch the couple on screen run towards each other - the world around them looking bright and airy, nothing like the dirty, cramped subway car that both of them were currently in.</p><p>It reminded Peter a little of Asgard, how peaceful it was - letting himself get lost in the movie as the subway car rattled and rolled along. </p><p>The movie itself was something that Peter never got the chance to see, remembering that it came out around the first time May had to be hospitalized - gripping the bar above him a little tighter until the subway comes to a screeching halt, the ding bringing Peter back to the present.</p><p>“Hey, get-- this is my stop. Getting off. This-is-my-stop!” Peter pushes and shoves his way towards the entrance of the subway car, barely exiting the doors in time. </p><p>He exhales sharply, shaking himself and makes his way to work. </p><p>The walk from the subway stop to the decrepit warehouse where he worked was a short one, Peter rubbing his hands together as he swiped his key card, submitted to the fully automated body check and rode the elevator up to his floor. </p><p>It was overkill in Peter’s perspective - no one had the money or the processing power to recreate Asgard. But he wasn’t going to be the one to complain and lose out on the only stable job he’s had. </p><p>“What is the reward for a life well-lived and an upload well planned for? The most perfect natural beauty that man can design,” the automated ad plays as Peter rides the elevator up, wondering not for the first time why the company he worked for insisted on advertising their own services to people who couldn’t afford them in the first place. </p><p>“The best days of your life could be after it’s over,” the ad continues, Peter’s mind drifting as he waits, “you did well. You deserve Asgard, by Horizon.” </p><p>The elevators slide open, Peter tightening his bag around his shoulder as he walks through the office floor.</p><p>Peter heard about the remodel they were planning, a switch from the open office set up towards something resembling old school cubicles. He didn’t really have a preference, so long as he got to stick by Ned - heading towards his desk and seeing his best friend. </p><p>“Hey man, what’s up?” Ned asks, Peter smiling as he shrugs. </p><p>“You know how it goes, same old. Same old.” </p><p>Ned smirks, reaching his hand out as he and Peter act out the handshake they’ve developed over the years, only to hear their boss Harrington’s voice call out.</p><p>“No fraternizing on the floor. Get to work, Parker.” Harrington calls in monotone, Peter forcing a smile on his face as he waves.</p><p>“Will do, Mr. Harrington,” Peter says, side-eying Ned who just rolls his eyes and looks back to his desk. </p><p>Peter gets out a water bottle and puts on his headset, logging into the computer before him as he scans the new arrivals for the day.</p><p>There’s only one, a 25-year-old from Los Angeles named Michelle Jones. Peter frowns as he always does when he sees a young upload, chewing the inside of his cheek before getting to work. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>This was always the weirdest part of his job, scanning through the memories of the people he uploaded into Asgard’s afterlife AI program. It was quality control, making sure everything that made the uploads <em> people </em> carried over. </p><p>Yet Peter couldn’t help but feel slightly voyeuristic when he did so, especially when he had to make the avatars of the young and clearly beautiful as Michelle Jones had been. </p><p>A part of Peter just shut down when he did, too numbed now to the monotony of it - like playing around on that old computer game <em> The Sims </em> that he and Ned used to play before they got jobs doing the real thing. </p><p>He’s finishing up Michelle’s curls when Ned leans over, nodding towards the screen.</p><p>“Motorcycle? Badass,” Ned says with a smirk, Peter glancing at the memory that plays on the screen.</p><p>It’s Michelle, called MJ by her closest friends from what Peter has gathered from her memories - long curly hair whipping in the wind as she drives down the California coast highway.</p><p>“Is that how she died?” Ned asks, Peter shaking his head as he swipes the memory towards her avatar.</p><p>“Nope, car accident.”</p><p>“Really?” Ned asks curiously, Peter transferring a few more memories as he says, “Would’ve guessed someone riding a motorcycle without a helmet would be into danger.”</p><p>Peter just shrugs, pointing to the cause of death. “Says car accident.”</p><p>“Well, I’m gonna get back to uploading my fifth old lady. Wanna go to Delmar’s for lunch today?” Ned asks, Peter nodding again as he continues to work - another memory playing on the screen in front of him.</p><p>He didn’t watch <em> all </em> the memories usually, just enough to make sure he was getting a sense of who the person was. The Horizon tech would be more than enough to pick up any of the nuances that he might’ve missed. </p><p>Yet it was the significant ones, or at least the ones that the system flagged as significant, that played automatically - Peter watching as the video begins to play. </p><p>It’s of Michelle and another person, a tall brunette with a warm smile on her face - gesturing to the building in front of them. </p><p>“Come on MJ, this is going to be great.”</p><p>“I don’t know Liz,” Peter hears Michelle say through the recording, “I don’t know if this is the right idea.”</p><p>Before Liz can respond, an error message pops up - Peter frowning as he leans forward.</p><p>“Memory file damaged?” Peter whispers to himself, using the stylus connected to his laptop to try and troubleshoot - the file still refusing to play the full memory.</p><p>Peter purses his lips, transferring that particular file to another folder for now - making a mental note for himself to try and figure out what had caused the error as he resumed his work. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Darkness. </p><p>That’s the first thing Michelle is aware of. Complete and utter darkness. </p><p>But then a voice - low, peaceful yet totally unfamiliar begins to speak - a beacon calling out to her as it says, “Hello Michelle. I’m not expecting you to answer me yet. The system is sorting through a lot of information but I’m going to count to three. Try to count with me.”</p><p>Michelle tries but finds that she can’t, unsure if she even has a body as the voice says, “One. Two. Three.” </p><p>A soft melody begins to play in the background, shapes and sounds all around her starting to blur in and out of focus as Michelle groans. </p><p>“Welcome to upload, Michelle. You made it to Asgard, you lucky duck.”</p><p>Michelle groans again, feeling like she got hit by a bus yet also feeling as if she shouldn’t be able to feel anything at all as the voice begins to speak again. </p><p>It was warm, a guy she thinks - gently speaking to her as if he was nudging her awake as he says, “I want you to think of yourself. The I in the sentence, ‘I think therefore I am’.”</p><p>Michelle does, feeling sensations and tingling starting to form around her - blocks of black and white starting to form in her vision as the voice says, “Good. Now I want you to think of the color blue. Light blue like a clear sky. Dark blue like a mountain lake. Yellow sunshine. Forest green. Brown wood. Perfect.” </p><p>Each time Michelle thinks of the color, the shapes around her start to change into all of those colors - feeling literally as if she was being brought back into existence as she mutters, “I feel like I’m being shocked.”</p><p>The voice chuckles before saying, “The shocks are just the system finding your nerve endings. Do you see anything?” </p><p>Michelle blinks a few times before registering her surroundings, “Some kind of old-fashioned room? Looking out over a lake.”</p><p>The voice hums before saying, “Good.”</p><p>“Whoa, shit there’s a shark coming straight for me!” Michelle jokes, the voice predictably sounding panicked as he says, “Wait whoa, that’s not supposed to happen.”</p><p>“Kidding. I’m kidding, geez.”</p><p>The voice laughs, Michelle smirking at the sound as he says, “Sense of humor. Nice. Um, so welcome to Asgard by Horizon. The only digital afterlife environment modeled on the Grand Victorian hotels of the United States and Canada. Hope it’s not too <em> Ralph Lauren </em> for you.”</p><p>Michelle laughs, looking around the room that she’s in. It <em> does </em> look like a Ralph Lauren catalog, similar to the cabin that Harry had tried to get her to visit on more than one occasion as she takes everything in. </p><p>“Well it’s not really my thing, but it’s nice I guess,” she finally says, the voice from before speaking out again. </p><p>“Asgard is a place of calm, a quiet retreat to spend your afterlife in. It’s open to all religions, races, genders and because of that, is modeled according to your preferences. For example, I see you’ve noted that you do not have a religious affiliation so the little building down the street will serve as a bowling alley, library or any other kind of recreational place that you would be interested in.”</p><p>“Does it change for others?” Michelle asks, flexing her fingers over the chair that she was seated in as she looked around.</p><p>The room she was in was nice, a little <em> too </em> nice - Michelle feeling as if everything had been dialed up and over saturated. It was the prettiest room she had ever been in and the view outside looked magnificent yet it felt hollow, knowing that it wasn’t real undermining any sense of enjoying it. </p><p>“Yep,” the voice says, “for some it’s a church, for others it can be a mosque or a synagogue. Again, Asgard is made and created to be welcome for everyone.”</p><p>“As long as you can afford it,” Michelle mutters, hearing the soft chuckle of the voice above her. </p><p>“Well I can help with any additional purchases. I just need your Horizon password.”</p><p>Michelle frowns, pursing her lips together as she looks around the cabin. “Um, I don’t know it?”</p><p>She waits while the voice does… whatever it is that he’s doing, trying to remember how she got here in the first place. </p><p>Michelle was dead - that was clear, from having been uploaded into the digital afterlife equivalent of the Hamptons. Vague memories of Harry pleading with her to upload into Asgard come back to her, the pain that she’d felt in her chest from what the nurse had said was a collapsed lung causing her to rub her hand over her sternum - not feeling any pain but still feeling a little freaked out from it. </p><p>She was <em> dead </em>, memories of her self-driving car having smashed into a lightning pole coming back to her - something that should never have happened yet clearly had.</p><p>The voice from before brings her out of her thoughts as he says, “Well your charges are going to a Harry Osborn. You would need to contact the account holder if there were any significant changes that you wanted to make to your Asgard experience.”</p><p>“Yeah, I figured,” Michelle says with a sigh, glancing around the room as the voice says, “But don't worry. There’s lots of free activities. You could hike up to a gazebo, swim in the lake, take a class… you can do anything you want.” </p><p>Michelle nods a few times, feeling herself start to stress again - her mind fully coming to grips with where she was. </p><p>She hadn’t wanted to upload, she could remember that now - wanting to see her mom one last time before she made a decision. Michelle could still remember the doctors arguing over her fluctuating vitals, the choice between going into surgery and risking dying permanently on the table or going to upload - booting up her consciousness into a virtual world for time immemorial. </p><p>But Harry had been insistent, pleading with her to do this for “them” - something that had been a horrible concept to begin with and now, Michelle thought with horror, was too late to back out.</p><p>She had just been thinking of breaking up with Harry, wondering if what they had was even sustainable.</p><p>And yet in a split-second decision, one that couldn’t possibly have been legal considering how much under duress she was - Michelle was here, dead and in the digital afterlife completely subjected to the whims and power of the boyfriend she wasn’t even sure she wanted to have.</p><p>“Hey Michelle? You still with me?” She hears the voice say, nodding a little too furiously as she says, “Yeah. I’m fine.” </p><p>“Don’t be embarrassed,” the voice says soothingly, “it can be really hard, to die I mean. Especially when you’re really young and beau-- um, you know. Had a lot to live for.”</p><p>“You got that right,” Michelle says, feeling a little unhinged as she does as she grinds her teeth.</p><p>She had <em> plans </em> - a whole life to live. There were things she had wanted to do, things that now she was quickly realizing she never would have the <em> chance </em> to - the voice speaking out again as he says, “Unexpected uploads typically have trouble adjusting. But remember, they froze your body so who knows. Maybe one day they’ll figure out how to put you back in.” </p><p>“Yeah, thanks.” Michelle says sarcastically, gripping the chair that she was in so tightly that it hurt, forcing herself to focus on anything other than the fact that she wasn’t <em> really </em> gripping a chair because she was dead as she asks, “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Oh,” the voice says, sounding uncertain for the first time, “Well, you’re just supposed to refer to me as your Angel.”</p><p>“Are you alive? Or dead? Some weird, freaky AI thing?” Michelle asks. </p><p>“I’m not allowed to say, sorry,” the voice says, actually sounding apologetic, “But anytime you need me, I’ll be here for you. Just ask and I’ll be right in your ear.” </p><p>“Okay, cool. Awesome,” Michelle says, any semblance of control that she’s feeling slowly slipping away.</p><p>“And it looks like you’re all set. Do you look real to yourself? Ten fingers and toes?” The voice asks, Michelle glancing down and seeing that while yes, she does look like a person - her mind can’t get over the fact that she wasn’t anymore.</p><p>Just a scramble of digital parts that could no longer do anything or go anywhere... not really.</p><p>“Totally seamless,” Michelle lies as Angel says, “Great, well just… explore. Enjoy. Meet up with your fellow uploads. Let it sink in at how lucky you are. This is the first day of the rest of your afterlife.”</p><p><em> Yeah, awesome. Totally not fucked up </em>, Michelle thinks before she says, “Yeah, thanks.”</p><p>She blows air out of her mouth, standing up from the chair because she can’t take it anymore - hands starting to shake as she paces back and forth.</p><p>This wasn’t supposed to happen - not to her, not so soon. She was <em> twenty-five </em> for crying out loud. She’d barely graduated from law school - even if a morbid part of her now thought that she would be able to get out of her student loans now.</p><p>She’d never get the chance to visit New York like she planned, would never get to skydive - wouldn’t get to do anything anymore, not anything that was <em> real.  </em></p><p>Cause she was dead. Michelle couldn’t wrap her head around it - only for Angel’s voice to ring out once more.</p><p>“Hey, it’s okay. Today was a big day. You died and you were reborn. That’s a lot to process.”</p><p>“Yep, yeah. Sure as fuck is,” Michelle says, fingers tapping against her thigh as she continues to pace.</p><p>“Tomorrow’ll be better. You’ll see,” Angel says calmly, Michelle wishing she could listen to him as she looks over to the bed.</p><p>It looked warm, comforting - reminding her of what she used to do in college, curling up under the covers when the world felt too much.</p><p>“Yeah, might get a head start on that,” she says, crawling over to the bed and burrowing herself under the covers, staring up at the ceiling.</p><p>“Get some rest,” Angel says, Michelle biting her lip as she blinks back tears - hating that even in death, she couldn’t have some kind of control on her emotions.</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t know. This is really---”</p><p>But before Michelle can say another word, her head falls back - a forced heaviness on her that puts her straight to sleep.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Aw, you think she’ll be okay?” Ned asks, leaning over Peter’s shoulder as they stare at Michelle on the screen - Peter bringing his hand down from the stylus he used to put her to sleep. It was another part of his job that didn’t sit well with him, the power he had over their digital afterlives being something Peter couldn’t really dwell on for too long. </p><p>But he knew that if he allowed Michelle to panic anymore, it could lead to disaster, nodding to Ned as he says, “I don’t know, I hope so. What’s the rejection rate for the unprepared? Forty percent right?”</p><p>Ned scoffs, “For me, it’s sixty.”</p><p>Peter turns to Ned, raising an eyebrow at him as Ned looks at him sheepishly. </p><p>“I’ve been written up so many times.” </p><p>Peter smiles, looking back to Michelle. </p><p>She’d clearly been through a lot - having scanned through her memories and seeing the rushed decision she’d had to make to be uploaded. Peter frowns when he glances at the account holder’s name.</p><p>Her boyfriend Harry was a dick - the same kind of rich, elitist snobs that Peter had spent a lifetime hating. It would make sense that Michelle was no better but Peter knew her - in the way that he knew all of the uploads he was in charge of - having rifled through enough of her life to see that while she’d been dating Harry for a little over a year, she was nothing like him.</p><p>She was smart, funny - kind to people and clearly passionate about the world around her - Peter scrolling over and clicking on a memory file of hers. </p><p>It was from a few months before she died, Michelle volunteering at a local boys and girls club, tutoring the kids while she waited to meet her friend Liz for something. </p><p>Michelle was a good person, if there even was such a thing, and while it was clear that being forced into Asgard wasn’t the <em> best </em> decision - it was better than the alternative, dying for real with no chance of having any kind of second life.</p><p>Peter glances over to the picture on his desk of him, May and Ben - his heart clenching at the sight as he sighs. </p><p>Working at Horizon wasn’t making any kind of difference, not for the world or for any grand purpose like he’d always dreamed when he was little. </p><p>But it did give him the chance to help people like Michelle have a little peace in their death, hoping that if he tried hard enough - maybe he could convince May that it would be worth it for her too. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hello Asgard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Michelle wakes up to sunlight streaming in from the open window, scrunching her eyes tightly before slowly opening them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of panic, trying to remember how and why she got there only for everything to come rushing back to her - hearing the fire that she logically knew wasn’t real flickering as she sits up in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why the hell is the fire on</span>
  </em>
  <span>?, Michelle thinks as she looks out towards the window, the sunrise spilling out over the mountain tops casting almost unnatural shades of the rainbow into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> natural, Michelle swallowing that realization down as she gets out of bed - taking a deep breath as she takes stock of her surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angel - whoever he was - had said that Asgard looked like a Ralph Lauren catalog and he wasn’t wrong, the red and black checkered patterned comforter and wooden decor causing Michelle to make a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too… rustic for Michelle’s tastes, already missing her modern and sleek apartment - a wave of remorse washing over at the realization that she’d never get to live in it ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re dead. Suck it up, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Michelle tells herself - trying to convince herself that all of this was perfectly normal even if it completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks towards the open door that leads out to her balcony, only to pause when she sees the control panel in front of her. </span>
</p><p>Michelle fiddles with it, watching in amazement as the view shifts - the mountainous region changing seasons with a flick of her wrist. </p><p>
  <span>It was like something out of a movie, fingers drifting over the control panel as the scene outside changed from the orange and yellow leaves of fall, to green leaves and thunderstorms, then white blankets of snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a huff of surprise, marveling at how fantastic it looked - sights and sounds that she’d never seen before, considering she’d spent her whole life in Los Angeles. Yet it wasn’t just the countryside, but the fact that she was able to change it that was fascinating - the ability to control the world around her at her fingertips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just enough to brighten her mood, only a little - backing away from the open balcony and looking around the room once again. She sees a minibar in the corner, immediately intrigued at the possibility of getting drunk - wondering if that was even possible when technically she didn’t even have a body, much less a metabolism.</span>
</p><p>Yet when Michelle kneels down and opens the minibar and attempts to choose a beer, she’s prevented from doing so with a notification for what looks like the equivalent of an in-app purchase - Michelle frowning as she goes to pay for it only to be prompted for her Horizon password.</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Figures</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Michelle thinks as she stands up, calling out, “Hey Angel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Michelle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle lets out a yelp at the unfamiliar person who materialized in front of her, the voice being completely different than the guy that had helped her out the day before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, what--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh sorry, hi. I saw from the program that you’re new,” she says, “I’m your night Angel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Night</span>
  </em>
  <span> angel?” Michelle asks pointedly, glancing to the sunrise outside her window as the night Angel laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, your day angel’s off the clock and I’m guessing… didn’t physically appear in front of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle’s look must be all the answer the night angel needs as she laughs, her long, white blonde hair nearly shimmering in the light as she says, “Well, this is a thing. We’re in your ear anytime you need us but if you want to talk to us face to face,” the night angel smirks, gesturing between the two of them, “here we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, I guess…” Michelle says with some uncertainty, the night angel glancing around before saying, “So is there anything I can help you with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, what’s the deal with the prices on drinks?” Michelle asks, gesturing towards the minibar. “I thought this was the digital equivalent of heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night angel smiles, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she says, “Asgard is meant to be the place of complete and total bliss. However, if you want to improve your experience, there are certain tiers that are only afforded to the most elite members.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle raises an eyebrow before saying, “Class warfare even when I’m dead? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Is there no escape?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mutters that last sentence, the night angel just putting on a smile as she says, “I’m happy to accommodate your needs, so long as you provide your Horizon password.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no I don’t have it. I’ll… figure it out,” Michelle says dismissively, looking at the night angel up and down before saying, “So thanks. I’m good now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, the night angel disappears - making Michelle think that maybe this angel, and the previous one, were really just AIs after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle sighs, knowing what she needs to know even if there’s a part of her that had been pushing it off - fingers twitching as she sucks it up and brings her hand up, switching her hand towards the palm screen that would automatically connect her to her phone implant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scrolls through her contacts, finger hovering over Harry’s before steeling herself and pressing the call button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rings twice before Harry answers, dressed in a suit that looks as if it’s reflecting glitter as he says, “MJ! Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I was wondering when you would call. I didn’t know how it worked and after seeing you get uploaded—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Har,” Michelle interjects, not wanting to focus in on anything close to reminding her of her death and the liminal space that she now inhabited, “Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looks down to his suit, making the same pouty face that Michelle thought was annoying as he says, “Funeral planning, babe. Gotta make sure I look my best for my best girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Michelle says, knowing that if she was alive and in front of him that she’d just down the ‘best girl’ talk so fast that it would make his head spin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she wasn’t - alive - reminding herself with an eerie sense of dread that Harry now controlled her afterlife in a way that bagged at her as he asks, “How is everything? Is it gorgeous? Anything like the ads say it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything they say and more,” Michelle says, flipping the palm screen around so Harry can take in the room - hearing his appreciative whistle as she flips it back so he’s looking at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, babe. I’m so glad. Just think, soon enough I’ll be right there with you. Together forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully not </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> soon,” Michelle says with an edge, seeing something pass over Harry’s face as he absorbs her words. There’s a double meaning to it that she’s not sure he catches, especially when Harry says, “Babe, I’m sorry. I know dying can be hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry makes a face. “Well, not like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> exactly but—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it,” Michelle interjects, not wanting to hear Harry tripping over himself just as Harry didn’t seem interested in explaining as she as she asks, “I actually wanted to see if I could get your Horizon password? I can’t charge anything here without it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiles, Michelle recognizing that look anywhere as he says, “Aw babe, if you need anything you can just ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, I can’t ask you for everything. They charge for a fucking bottle of beer,” Michelle says, Harry pursing his lips before shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it babe, anything you want. Just ask and I’ll pay for it. Makes me feel closer to you, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle doesn’t miss what he’s doing - side-stepping the issue of control that they both know he know unequivocally holds. It was one of her biggest pet peeves in their relationship, how possessive Harry could be - jealous and passive aggressive when it came to making sure that she was ‘making good choices’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one of the reasons that Michelle had wanted to break up with him - before she died. Instead, she’d inadvertently signed her afterlife away - convinced now more than ever that the decision she’d made couldn't possibly have been legal since she could barely remember making it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before Michelle can argue, Harry looks off screen - hearing someone talk to him off screen before he turns back to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok babe, I gotta go. The caterer is making a mess of things. I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle blinks. “Uh whoa, we’ve never— we haven’t said that before.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing that had been part of the reason why she wanted to break up, less because of the emotional vulnerability that came with sharing those three words but rather the idea that they’d been together for almost a year and she still couldn’t bring herself to say them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not worried about scaring you off now,” Harry says with a wink, “okay babe, toodles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry hangs up before she can answer, Michelle shifting her hands so the palm screen goes away - sighing as she considers her options.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was supposed to be heaven, or at least the digital equivalent - the best of the best for those who could afford it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet Michelle </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> - not without Harry’s help. And now being stuck under his thumb, literally and figuratively, Michelle was beginning to wonder if she’d signed herself up for her own personal hell instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter sighs as he washed the dishes, hearing May chatter in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> what Hogan said. I swear, the man should’ve been a comedian, not a security guard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What‘d he say?” Peter asks, running the plate under the water as May says, “Well, you had to be there really. You know how those things go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter hums noncommittally, turning off the water as he sets the dish down on the towel next to the sink - debating with himself is this was the right time before taking the leap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of work, May we’ve had a ton of upgrades lately with Asgard. Stuff you’d really like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>May doesn’t answer at first, Peter turning to her and watching as she stares at him with a tired smile - Peter taking her silence as reason enough to push forward as he says, “They added in a new caretaker patch, a whole room for those who were involved in caretaker roles. You could still teach, even long after you’re gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>May goes to say something only to cough violently, Peter immediately jumping into action as he grabs some water - rushing over to her as she waves her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m— I’m okay—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, May,” Peter pleads, May taking the glass from him and taking a drink as he kneels down in front of her - searching her face as she catches her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a long swig of the drink before setting it down on the coffee table beside her, Peter standing as she says, “No, Pete. You know my answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But May, think about it,” Peter says, going to sit beside her on their old couch, “I could be your angel, we could—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” May says, a sad smile on her face, “Ben’s waiting for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter feels his hands wanting to ball into fists, forcing himself to stay in the moment and keep a level head as he says, “May. We’ve talked about this. It doesn’t—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it doesn’t make sense,” May says plainly, the sternness in her voice that Peter had spent a lifetime hearing as she continues, “but it’s what Ben believed. And if there is a place out there and he’s waiting for me, I can’t do that to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t let you do that to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Peter thinks but doesn’t say - grinding his teeth as he tries to think of another way to tackle this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Losing Ben had been hard on both of them - a car accident that May was still insistent that it wasn’t Peter’s fault, a wave of shame running over him at his recklessness when he was young.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Self-driving cars didn’t crash but teenagers who took control of them did - a decision that still filled Peter with regret no matter how many years had passed, especially since his impulsive decision while on a camping trip with Ben had led to his uncle’s death. </span>
</p><p>Peter could barely remember his parents, the two of them dying in an apartment fire when he had been at a friend’s house. Yet the shadow of their deaths and Ben’s weighed heavily on Peter, especially since he worked at a place that literally made money off the concept of living forever.</p><p>
  <span>He and May had argued about this time and time again, the metaphysical concept of what it meant to be uploaded conflicting with the direct affront to the natural order of things that uploading your consciousness into a digital afterlife meant for humanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even aside from the ethical, the financial challenges associated with it were astronomical - Peter knowing that if it weren’t for the possibility of using his employee discount to ensure that May would have a spot, this whole conversation would be a moot point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet the truth of it was that even in the grand scheme of the ethical, moral and financial consequences of what it meant to be uploaded - Peter’s intentions were inherently selfish, hating the idea of being left behind if May were to die the old-fashioned way too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not when it was in his power to stop that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you think, Pete,” May says, throwing himself out of his thoughts, “And my answer’s still no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not argue tonight,” she says, gently but with a firmness that Peter knows to mean he won’t win this particular argument, “why don’t you get out the Scrabble holo and we can play a game before you head home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighs, his shoulders sagging as he locks eyes with her. </span>
</p><p>He wouldn’t be able to convince May tonight, that much was clear. But for as long as she was still here, Peter wasn’t going to give up - putting on a smile as he says, “Sure thing, May.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, you must be new!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle turns to see another blonde in front of her, looking at her up and down before asking, “Are you an angel too or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! No, I’m an upload,” she says cheerily, putting a hand out as she says, “I’m Betty Brant. Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle takes her hand, shaking it before letting it go - Betty’s smile unnerving her even more than she already was as she says, “Yeah. Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how’d you die?” Betty asks with a smile, entirely too cheery for how early it was - even if Michelle thinks that time, just like death, was a relatively malleable concept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um—“ Michelle begins, only for Betty to cut her off as she says, “I died in Brazil. Peace Corps posting, you know how it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure…” Michelle says, Betty continuing on as if she hadn’t said a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> kids, you know. It’s so important for kids to feel safe and celebrated. The people there were </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> amazing, so hard working and tough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh great, one of those</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Michelle thinks to herself - forcing a smile on her face as she glances around the opulent lobby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d finally left her room to try and explore - as the first Angel had told her to do - but now was quickly regretting it, Betty telling her all she needed to know about the uploads she was around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle knew enough about Asgard from Harry’s family, mindless chatter at galas and events that she gritted her teeth through at how </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was that after a long life filled with all the luxuries that their money could offer them, they’d get to have an eternity surrounded by “like-minded hardworking people” and relax.</span>
</p><p>Betty, if their five second introduction was any indication, was one of those people. </p><p>
  <span>“Is that how you died? Death by children?” Michelle asks impatiently, already looking for a way out of this conversation as Betty shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>“No, no, no, the kids took me to an ancient burial ground and I slipped while trying to take a selfie with them.”</p><p>
  <span>Michelle freezes, looking at Betty up and down in disbelief as she asks, “You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Betty’s eyes widen, “Oh don’t worry. I pushed the kids out of the way so I’m pretty sure they made it.” She makes a face, Michelle just staring at her in horror as she says, “Too bad about the picture though.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have got to be fucking kidding me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Michelle thinks to herself - forcing a fake smile as she says, “Yeah, shame. Anyway, I’m gonna-- go… explore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh can I come? I’d be happy to show you around,” Betty says cheerily, completely unaware of how horrified Michelle is at how casually imperialist and racist her life and her death seemingly had been, “it’s not often that we get new uploads around here. Everyone’s an old fart.”</span>
</p><p>“I resent that,” a vaguely familiar voice says, Michelle turning as Betty gasps.</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God, Mr. Stark! I’m sorry, I didn’t---” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony puts a hand up, casually dismissing Betty as he smiles at Michelle.</span>
</p><p>“You didn’t, I’m a big boy. What’s your name?”</p><p>
  <span>“Michelle,” she replies, eyeing him up and down, “You’re Tony Stark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I am,” he says with a flourish, Michelle raising an eyebrow as Betty goes to say something further - only to pause when Tony says, “Betty, how’s a game of tennis later today sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle catches the way Betty’s eyes widen in disbelief, furiously shaking her head, “Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that would be amazing. Yes please, I would love--”</span>
</p><p>“Why don’t you go and reserve a spot for us? I’ll be there in a minute, once I go change.”</p><p>
  <span>Betty smiles, looking to Michelle with an apologetic expression as she says, “It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see each other around!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t wait,” Michelle replies sarcastically, Betty jetting off just as quickly as she arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle turns to Tony, catching the faraway expression on his face as he says, “I’m gonna regret that. Brant’s a… handful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks back to Michelle with a smile on his face, “But you looked like you needed an out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so you, Tony Stark, billionaire philanthropist came to save me?” Michelle deadpans, not particularly interested in engaging with anymore stupidity only for Tony to put a hand up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you strike me as the kind of woman who can save herself. But,” he nods towards the direction Betty ran off to, “I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Betty’s ‘welcome tours’. Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle looks at him up and down before pursing her lips, studying him for a second before saying, “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime,” Tony says warmly before wincing, “Actually no, next time you’re on your own. I know this is supposed to be ‘heaven’ but sometimes listening to Brant makes me reconsider.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle barely holds back a laugh at that, Tony nodding before going to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you around, Michelle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches him as he leaves for a bit before turning towards the cafeteria, shaking her head as she tries to grasp what just happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course she’d known that Tony Stark had died, the death of the famous billionaire taking up the news cycles some five years back. But she must’ve missed him choosing to upload, something that in hindsight was ridiculous considering how many famous, wealthy people chose to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That strikes Michelle, glancing around the opulent and well decorated lobby - feeling that familiar panic building again in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle didn’t belong here, even if there was a part of her that thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck that - you should live here out of spite</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet that was the thing, Michelle realized - seeing the AI concierge shimmer slightly as it smiled at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> alive. This wasn’t real and it never would be, no matter how many amenities were offered to her and how many accommodations could be made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle had lived her whole life in service of wanting to do and be </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> - the idea of wanting to work towards creating a world where people of all economic backgrounds would have the chance to live a life that was worth something, not just striving for a digital one that they were blocked from having to begin with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dating Harry hadn’t been her best decision, especially not for as long as she did but there were surprising layers to him - a chance that Michelle had hoped that he would actually be able to change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now something all Michelle could realize had literally been a fatal mistake, now signed on to live under his thumb for all of eternity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it. Fuck this,” Michelle says to herself, walking over to the concierge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I get out of here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The concierge smiles warmly at her, titling his head as he says, “What do you mean Ms. Jones? Is there a place in Asgard that you are interested in--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not in Asgard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like… out of Asgard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The concierge frowns, before shaking his head. “The only way out of Asgard is through the bifrost,” he points towards a window, Michelle seeing the bright, rainbow like stream flying towards the sky. “Though I must strongly encourage against that as moving through the bifrost without the proper channels would mean permanent deletion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle listens to the AIs words, seeing from the expression on his face that it’s meant to appeal to some kind of self-preservation instinct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what the AI couldn’t anticipate is that Michelle was past self-preservation, especially when any chance of feeling that was long gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing to preserve. Michelle was dead, should’ve taken her chances on the operating table rather than subject herself to this capitalistic nightmare that she was currently in… surrounded by the likes of Betty Brant and Tony Stark and who the fuck ever else was here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle shakes her head, glancing out the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck this. I’m out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator dings, Peter pinching the bridge of his nose - bringing his hand down as he steps out and makes his way towards his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His conversation with May last night had put him in a bad mood, especially when she’d not so subtly encouraged him to leave when Johnny messaged him several times asking if he wanted to meet up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter wasn’t sure how he felt that his aunt was trying to get him laid, though she seemed to argue it more out of hypothetical grandchildren that Peter wasn’t even sure he wanted considering he couldn’t keep a plant alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help that Johnny, while sweet and a good time, was a little weirder than Peter usually liked - Peter remembering how he’d quickly changed into his clothes after Johnny started musing about the philosophy of canned meat. Something that Peter wasn’t sure if it was a metaphor or just a not so subtle invitation for round two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever the case was, Peter didn’t sleep well when he finally made it home - causing him to miss his alarm and then his first train, hoping that Harrington would be distracted enough as he makes his way to his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Parker, took you long enough,” he hears Felicia say, the customer service rep who handled his cases during the night shift. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry. Thanks for covering,” he says, glancing towards Harrington who was absorbed with something on his computer screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime lover,” Felicia says suggestively, Peter rolling his eyes as she says, “you still owe me a drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last I checked </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> drank all my beer,” Peter bounced back, Felicia smirking before nodding to the computer in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hate to cut this short but your newest upload is having some problems. I would intervene but if she rejects on my shift, that’ll be another strike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait what?” Peter asks, Felicia waving as she turns away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she was headed to the bifrost?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter doesn’t even give himself the chance to argue with Felicia, panicked and furious that Felicia could be so flippant even if he knew distantly that she was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felicia wasn’t necessarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> at her job so much as she was efficient, cutting her losses and racking up disciplinary problems without a care in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But unlike Felicia, Peter did care - at least so much as it kept him employed, any chance that he had to possibly save May keeping him at Horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly logs in, looking at the screen in horror as Michelle marches towards where the bifrost was - wishing he had some kind of context for what had prompted her to get there but guessing that he was running out of time to find that out. </span>
</p><p>He hadn’t appeared to her in person yet but there was no time like the present, Peter putting on the virtual reality glasses that would replicate an avatar and inject him into Asgard.</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Hey Michelle, wait up!” Peter says as soon as his avatar is in Asgard, Michelle turning to him with a surprised expression on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember that voice,” she says, letting out a huff, “so it’s your shift now. You know, you work for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucked up thing. This is a bad idea. The ads make it seem great but it’s fucking monstrous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter winces, forcing a smile as he says, “Okay so maybe not the best first day—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like aside from the really fucked up concept of living for fucking ever in a digital equivalent of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canada</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m surrounded by people who think they’re better everyone? Forever?” Michelle says, Peter searching her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is— this isn’t what I signed up for. I don’t even think I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> sign up for this, to be honest and I’m done. I’m done, I’m ready to get off this train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns back towards the bifrost, Peter putting his hands up as he follows after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realize if you go into that thing, you don’t go anywhere,” he says, “You just disappear and there’s nothing left to rescan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah well, it’s better than living in this fucked up reality for the rest of eternity. God, what do you people </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> all day? Control everyone’s lives like some kind of cosmic game of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Sims</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter ignores that and asks, “So what, you wanna throw away this gift that you’ve been given? You have a chance to live forever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not living. I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Michelle says with a huff, turning around and glaring at Peter. “I’m not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>anymore. Just some line of coding in a computer somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recognizes that look - from his training but also from looking in the mirror, the grief and the guilt of still being around when the people you love weren’t anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made perfect sense why Michelle was ready to get out of here, Peter’s own observation of her last memories showing that she hadn’t exactly been fully aware of what she was doing to begin with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t exactly non-consensual, not by any legal definition but it was still wrong - Peter understood where she was coming from, even as his mind raced for convincing arguments to make her stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he couldn’t let her go through the bifrost because it would reflect poorly on his performance rating but idea of a permanent death - lost to the digital ether forever and removing any semblance of existing something Peter could barely stand to think about in the abstract, much less with the possibility right in front of hind </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, just— answer me this. What was the first thing I asked you to think of?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know? The colors?” She says, Peter shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Yourself. ‘I think therefore I am’, remember?” Peter says, Michelle nodding slowly as she frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter takes that as a sign to continue as he says, “Okay that </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t die, that’s consciousness. And that’s what we’re in the business of keeping going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle just looks at him, Peter taking a step forward as he says, “Like think about it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you think it feels weird and unnatural here? Like everything is just a little bit off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s fucked up?” Michelle replies, Peter laughing as he shakes his head and says, “Because your </span>
  <em>
    <span>consciousness</span>
  </em>
  <span> can think and compare with your memories. That’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re doing what you always did. Thinking and being alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles encouragingly, “I’m sure there are plenty of people, including me for one, that are glad you’re still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle scoffs. “You don’t even know me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Peter says honestly, but I’d like to. I get it, this isn’t perfect. And maybe you were led to believe it would be since the marketing mentions heaven like a dozen times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, glancing around and gesturing to the surroundings. “But it’s kind of better isn’t it? It can be at least. Maybe the imperfections make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> like life. Cause life isn’t perfect but life is the most magical gift there is. A gift that you’ve been given the chance to do again, just differently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle stares at him for a beat before smirking, eying him up and down.</span>
</p><p>“You’re good. They should give you a raise.”</p><p>Peter laughs at as she continues, “You’re a living person, AI doesn’t talk like that. Pain and passion. Soul.”</p><p>
  <span>Peter shifts in place before shoving his hands in his pockets, “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle’s features soften a bit, checking him out a little more, “Is this what you look like for real? You’re not some old woman or—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, this is me. I mean,” Peter looks down, “My hair’s done and I’m dressed in slacks and not sweatpants like I am at my desk. But this is me. A little better than normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle smirks before saying, “Good for you then. You’re not ugly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks?” Peter replies, getting a genuine laugh out of Michelle. </span>
</p><p>“But for whatever reason, I’m not allowed to know your name.” </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Peter shakes his head, “I could get in trouble. It’s a policy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s a policy,” Michelle says with an eye roll. “You’re allowed to sift through my entire existence, watch my every move and yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> not allowed to know your name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter debates with himself for a split second before making one of the more impulsive decisions of his life as he says, “My name’s Peter. I live in Forest Hills in Queens. My apartment’s about as big as your bathroom but I’m at work now which is in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brooklyn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s a really cold day and I can hear my boss trying learn some song that makes me wanna claw my eyes out.”</span>
</p><p>Michelle looks surprised for a moment before smiling at him, Peter extending a hand out. </p><p>“Peter Parker.”</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you,” she says as she shakes his hand, “My friends call me MJ.”</span>
</p><p>Peter takes that as a positive sign as he says, “Glad we could officially meet, MJ. Can I walk you back now?”</p><p>
  <span>Michelle looks back to the bifrost for a moment, Peter wondering if he’d made a terrible miscalculation only for her to look back at him, nodding as she says, “Yeah, guess I could… deal for another day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only one though, then you’re out of here,” Peter jokes, knowing it’s the right move when Michelle laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got that right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, Peter smiling back at her as they walk in step with each other - heading back towards the main building. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Five Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Endless thanks to Grace who helps untangle all the webs this story has caused and is overall the loveliest person</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Try it again.”</p><p>Peter forced a smile, straightening his shoulders as he waved his hand around as if he was a bird - flying about in the sky as the man on the ground smiled in delight. </p><p>“Brother, do you not think you’ve had enough fun?” </p><p>Peter glances over to Thor Odinson, smiling congenially up at Peter whose own smile feels something like a grimace as Loki replies, “It <em> is </em> the afterlife. Am I not allowed these small indulgences?”</p><p><em> Depends on what you think of as an indulgence </em>, Peter thinks to himself but wisely keeps quiet - flapping his arms again as Loki conjures up some beam of magical light from his hand, a trick of code that gave him the chance to enact his dream of being an intergalactic overlord. </p><p>The whims of the participants of Asgard was baked into its appeal - the chance for people, within certain limits, indulge in their wildest fantasies that even they couldn’t achieve when they were alive. </p><p>It was no secret that those who were able to upload, much less upload into a place as well taken care of and looked after like Asgard, were obscenely wealthy. It was part of why Peter tried so hard to convince May of taking advantage of his employee discount. The possibility of losing her forever paled in comparison to the possibility that he could keep her “alive” in a manner of speaking but in a different kind of hell, some bargain bin afterlife being nearly as bad as the alternative. </p><p>Yet for all his pleas, May stayed firmly against the idea - even as Peter continued to hold on to that as his motivation for staying in this crappy job and to deal with the whims of these rich people - just barely missing a lobbed flash of light from Loki’s hands that looked like a firecracker. </p><p>“Almost got me!” Peter calls out with a twisted smile, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he sees the glee in Loki’s eyes. </p><p>From the range of fantasies that Peter had been asked to play out, ‘victim to the whims of a mythical trickster god’ hadn’t been the weirdest thing that Peter had ever been a part of. And even if he knew that he was truly in no physical danger - sitting peacefully at his desk as he looks out through his digital avatars eyes through the headset - something still sent a chill down his back at Loki’s demeanor. </p><p>“Evade less next time,” Loki says with a low growl, hunching over in a defensive position as Peter sighs. </p><p>
  <em> Think of May. Think of May. Think of May. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next few days are for lack of a better term - like shit. </p><p>Peter clocks in at work, serves as the punching bag for several of the uploads he’s in charge of, takes a quick lunch break with Ned only to be further harassed in the afternoon before he’s blessedly released - only to face a long commute home and stumble into his tiny, cramped apartment. </p><p>It’s such a soul-sucking routine that when May calls him, she not so subtly encourages him to go out and have some fun - Peter finding himself in bed with Johnny again for the second time in less than a week, sweaty and out of breath as he stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom.</p><p>“That was fun,” Johnny murmurs from beside him, Peter laughing despite himself before nodding and saying, “Yeah, uh. Yeah that was-- that was good.”</p><p>“<em> Good </em> ? I need to work on my technique if after all of that you just think I was <em> good </em>,” Johnny says with mock offense, Peter turning to look at him for a second before smiling a bit more genuinely.</p><p>“Better than good,” Peter affirms, Johnny laughing before pressing a kiss to Peter’s nose - deftly angling himself out of bed. </p><p>“You um, you can stay if--”</p><p>“Nah, I gotta early morning,” Johnny says dismissively but not unkindly, the corner of his lips upturning before saying, “But I had fun.”</p><p>“Me too,” Peter says almost wistfully, a twinge in his chest at the image of Johnny putting his clothes and heading to the bathroom no doubt to freshen up before he left. </p><p>It was ridiculous in the abstract, Peter hadn’t even wanted to reach out to him in the first place. And it wasn’t as if Johnny was rude or unkind, Peter had been explicitly clear about what he had wanted from the get go. </p><p>Yet as he said his goodbyes to Johnny, walking him to the door and pressing a kiss to his cheek, Peter couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had messed up in the first place - so intent on focusing on what he had to do with Asgard that he had pushed someone away before they had a chance to be a part of his life in the first place.</p><p>He knew he was overthinking it but that didn’t stop him, staring off into nothing as he tapped a pen against his desk the next day only to hear a familiar voice call out through his speaker. </p><p>“ANGEL. ANGEL WHERE ARE YOU!?” </p><p>Peter’s startled by the sound, enough to drop his pen and for Ned to laugh at his place beside him - looking over to him and smirking as he says, “Sorry.”</p><p>“You’re good man, you okay?” Ned asks, Peter nodding before he adjusts his headset. </p><p>“Yeah, looks like Eugene is in a mood.”</p><p>Ned whistles at that, nodding his head in a good luck gesture as Peter grimaces, moving the eyepiece over his face and logging into his avatar interface.</p><p>As soon as he’s in Asgard, he appears right in front of a disgruntled Eugene Thompson, one of Asgard’s youngest members and - Parker’s luck - his most demanding customer. </p><p>It was deeply uncomfortable for Peter to think about for too long, his own ideas of what a virtual afterlife actually meant for those involved made even more complex when paired with the reality of a fifteen-year-old being permanently stuck at the most awkward time of life for all of eternity. </p><p>To the point where ‘Eugene patrol’ was something that each of them took a turn at, Peter being on the longest-running stint as his angel since for reasons completely unknown to Peter - Eugene wasn’t nearly as bad with Peter than literally anyone else.</p><p>That or Peter had a much higher tolerance for bullshit - another thing Peter didn’t dwell too much on as he forced a smile to his face.</p><p>Especially since every time he didn’t do exactly what was asked of him - and even sometimes that he did - the chances of his employee rating going down increased. </p><p>“Hey Eugene, how can I help you today?” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Michelle watched in amusement as Peter followed after some teenage kid, sipping her black coffee and actively working not to freak out at the memory that she wasn’t <em> actually </em> sipping anything but was rather just code working together. </p><p>Her fingers tensed over the coffee cup before she took a deep breath, remembering Peter’s pep talk as she worked to relax - letting out a huff as Peter forced yet another tight, tense smile on his face as the teenager waved his hands about.</p><p>“Enjoying the view?”</p><p>Michelle turns to see Tony Stark yet again, an amused smile on his face as he comes up beside her - hand hovering over the display of breakfast food before choosing a bagel. </p><p>“I’m observant,” Michelle counters, watching as Tony moves to slather on some kind of cream cheese topping over it and then wrinkles her nose as he takes a massive bite. “Figure some things shouldn’t change just because I’m a mass of coding now.”</p><p>“Not any different than y’u were before,” Tony says, his voice muffled from the mix of bagel and cream cheese. Michelle raises an eyebrow as he chews, swallows then says, “You were just a mix of cells before. Packaged up in flesh and tissue and bones, synapses firing together that’s not too dissimilar to a computer program.”</p><p>Michelle stares blankly at him, Tony shrugging before he says, “You’re just you 2.0.”</p><p>She mulls over that as he takes another bite of his bagel before her attention is shifted back to Peter, wondering if this was something included in the promotional materials or if Peter and Tony had somehow conspired together to make her feel comfortable. </p><p>Tony seems to catch where her eyes travel before swallowing down another bite and saying, “You have this talk before?”</p><p>“Something like it,” Michelle says noncommittally, Tony leaning against the breakfast table as he says, “Yeah, the kid and I had a couple of chats. He’s smart, too smart for this job.” </p><p>Michelle sneaks a glance over to Tony, looking over at Peter with a mix of fondness and amusement before he turns back to Michelle and says, “But you didn’t answer my question.”</p><p>“What question?” Michelle asks, Tony popping in the last of his bagel before nodding towards where Peter and Eugene were currently engaged in some kind of mild argument. </p><p>“Enjoying the view?” Tony asks conspiratorially, Michelle glaring at him for a second before rolling her eyes. </p><p>“Like I said, I’m just observant,” Michelle says dismissively, catching the gleam in Tony’s eyes as he just smiles at her - the argument between Peter and Eugene getting more and more heated as they pass by. </p><p>“I’m <em> dead </em>. What does it matter if I get a tattoo?” Eugene asks, Michelle holding back a laugh as Peter seems to freeze for a moment - a part of her wondering if he was actually off in some office somewhere taking off whatever mechanism that put him in there or if the simulation was actually glitching.</p><p>Considering how expensive Asgard was a month, Michelle bet on the latter as his avatar resumes and says, “Because as we’ve talked about before, any bodily modifications not only have to be run through the primary account holder but have to be completed with parental consent for uploads under eighteen.” </p><p>“Technically, I’m nineteen by now,” Eugene snaps back, a pang of something deeply familiar to Michelle when she hears his voice crack - less from age and more from an understanding of exactly what he’s going through as he says, “I should be able to control myself.”</p><p>Peter looks rightfully sympathetic at that, pressing his lips together before he says, “I understand, Eugene.”</p><p>“No, you <em> don’t </em>. I’m sick of everyone saying they understand!” Eugene says with a huff, any blip of vulnerability now completely removed as he swipes a hand in front of him, Michelle watching as a five star rating meter gets downgraded to two. </p><p>“Wait Eugene, let’s--” Peter says, Eugene stomping off as Peter sighs before following after him. </p><p>“Kid’s shit out of luck,” Tony says, Michelle forgetting for a moment that he was even there to begin with, “there’s no way that Asgard’s gonna change their policy no matter how much he whines about it. Angel over there’s got his work cut out for him.”</p><p>Michelle hums at that, Tony taking that as a response as he says, “Never felt right for kids to upload. Something… off about it. But,” Tony shrugs, “can’t really argue with a grieving parent can you?”</p><p>“No and all things considered,” Michelle gestures vaguely towards Tony’s person, “you’re not really in any position to judge in the first place.”</p><p>Tony laughs goodnaturedly, Michelle smiling when she sees the gleam in his eye as he says, “Touche.” </p><p>A comfortable silence falls between them before Tony speaks up again asking, “If you don’t mind my asking, you don’t strike me as the type to upload.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michelle asks, feeling her defenses rise for a moment before Tony is quick to say, “Only that you’ve made it clear that all of this,” he gestures towards their surroundings, “isn’t something you buy into. Everyone has an adjustment period when they upload but only those with doubts tend to be as defensive as you are about it.”</p><p>Michelle opens her mouth to argue only to clamp it shut, knowing that he’s right and yet hating it all the same. She couldn’t rightfully say that she was uploaded against her will, she can vaguely remember giving consent to the procedure, but there was still something off about the whole thing - enough that for as much as Harry was avoiding her calls as a way to ‘prepare for the funeral’, she made a mental note to ask him about it once again. </p><p>“So do you?”</p><p>“What?” Michelle asks, Tony folding his arms as he looks at her - as if he was studying her for the first time.</p><p>“Have doubts.”</p><p>Michelle considers that, not really feeling like she owes the man next to her anything but glad for the company - especially since the minute Betty showed up again, Michelle knows she’d probably get sucked into listening to some humanitarian horror story. </p><p>“I mean, it wasn’t like I planned on dying anytime soon so… hadn’t really given it a lot of thought for myself.”</p><p>Tony can see right through the lie just as much Michelle can taste it on her lips, eyes narrowing as she sighs. </p><p>“What’d you say you did again?”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Michelle says, studying him in an action that’s a mirror of his own. </p><p>Tony looks tickled by that, pursing his lips in amusement once more before saying, “So what did you do?”</p><p>When Michelle doesn’t answer, Tony’s smirk turns into a genuine smile as he says, “You do realize we’re both dead and by definition, are no longer bound to any sense of temporal reality.”</p><p>Michelle raises an eyebrow, Tony’s smile growing even wider as he says, “I’ve got nothing but time. You on the other hand,” he nods towards the stairs, Michelle looking over to see Betty coming down the landing and frantically looking around, “might be occupied sooner rather than later.”</p><p>“You gonna sell me out because I won’t tell you personal information?” Michelle whispers, Tony shrugging as he unfolds his arms. </p><p>“Wouldn’t be a good business man if I didn’t know negotiation,” he says, taking a step forward as if to signal Betty.</p><p>Michelle quickly turns, grabbing his arm and turning away from them as she whispers back, “This is manipulative.”</p><p>“It’s extortion,” Tony whispers back, Michelle rolling her eyes. </p><p>“God, you’re the worst. I hated you when you were alive, you know that?”</p><p>“And now you get to hate me for all of eternity,” he says with a smirk, the two of them moving just outside of Betty’s view as he says, “but I’m still curious.” </p><p>Michelle waits until Betty passes - knowing she won’t be able to avoid her forever and considering the lesser of two evils, recognizes a conversation with Tony was the better option for the moment. </p><p>“I was a lawyer.”</p><p>“And you hated <em> me </em>? A businessman? Glass house, darling.”</p><p>Michelle scowls, rolling her eyes again for emphasis before saying, “I wasn’t a corporate lawyer. I worked in the non-profit sector, as part of an organization that…”</p><p>Michelle trails off, Tony looking at her expectantly.</p><p>“A nonprofit that…”</p><p>“I-- I don’t know,” Michelle says, her mind blanking no matter how hard she tries to think of it. </p><p>“You don’t <em> know </em>? Sounds like you were a shitty lawyer then, kid.” </p><p>“No, I’m not-- I know what I do. Did. I,” Michelle’s lips twist, “it was about economic justice concerning uploads. But I… I can’t think of what we did exactly.”</p><p>Tony’s whole demeanor towards her changes, a softer look on his face before he asks, “You one of those who argued for universal uploading?”</p><p>“I… I don’t think so,” Michelle says, slightly shaking her head. “I don’t know, I…” She trails off, a sense of panic in her gut at the idea that she can’t seem to remember the basics of what she used to do before she shakes herself and says, “I can’t remember.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Tony says, “so you got murdered.”</p><p>“What? No, I was in a car accident,” Michelle replies. Tony looks suspicious, the corner of his lips upturning before saying, “Yeah sure. You threatened a six-hundred-billion-dollar-a-year industry and no one murdered you.”</p><p>Michelle doesn’t know how to answer that, Tony clearly seeing some look on her face before waving a hand dismissively.</p><p>“I’m just saying, kid. Car accidents are rare these days and you don’t strike me as the type to take the wheel when you’re not capable.”</p><p>Michelle’s silence is all the answer Tony needs as he shrugs. </p><p>“Like I said, I’m just an old man with too much time on his hands. But if I were you,” he looks at her meaningfully, “I’d use those observation skills for a little more than oogling the customer service reps.”</p><p>Michelle frowns, Tony smiling as he turns to walk away - Michelle half tempted to flip him off as he does. </p><p>But now that he’s planted the seed in her head, Michelle can’t stop thinking of it - wondering if there was some kind of kernel of truth to it to begin with.</p><p>Self-driving cars were a revolutionary piece of technology, to the point where they wrestled away control from drunk drivers and had a 99.9% safety rating. </p><p>As Tony walks away, leaving Michelle in the dining room to her thoughts - she can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s right. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Michelle keeps her thoughts to herself as the day progresses, all the while watching as Peter is frantically shuffled from one upload to the next.</p><p>For as shitty of a day as she’s having - relatively speaking since the existential realization that you are not only dead but were also probably <em> murdered </em> was enough to put a damper on any day - Peter is clearly having a rough go of it. </p><p>It’d be more funny if it wasn’t so sad - watching as Peter’s patience continues to grow thin as uploads continue to ask him to do crazy things, all from a distance to avoid being creepy and also to avoid both Betty <em> and </em> Tony - a feat in and of itself. </p><p>It’s only when she watched as Peter dodged a fireball from someone dressed like they were playing Shakespeare in the Park did she finally have the idea to call on him for herself.</p><p>“Angel?” </p><p>Peter appears in front of her with a tense smile on his face, looking more annoyed than she thinks she’s ever seen him before.</p><p>“What do you want?” He snaps, Michelle raising an eyebrow before smiling and putting her hand up - the gesture bringing up the star rating menu.</p><p>She waves her hand to move it towards a five star, Peter immediately raising his eyebrows and relaxing his shoulders as he says, “Thanks. So, what do you need?”</p><p>Michelle says nothing, raising her hand and repeating the same motion - giving Peter yet another five star rating. </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Michelle does it again, Peter smirking as he says, “Not sure what I did to deserve that but thanks. That’s really nice.”</p><p>Michelle repeats the action a third time, Peter laughing a little as he says, “Okay you gotta be breaking the rules or something because I’m sure you’re not supposed to be giving me five stars for nothing.”</p><p>Michelle can feel the smile on her lips as she gives him yet another five stars, Peter looking almost a little uncomfortable as he says, “I uh, I should do something to earn these.”</p><p>He does the most ridiculous little dance, waving jazz hands around in a way that elicits a laugh out of her. Peter smiles at that, only for it to fall when Michelle waves her hand in a motion as if she was going to give him three stars.</p><p>Only to grin when Michelle raises it back to five stars, Michelle smiling despite herself as Peter says, “Seriously, what can I do for you?”</p><p>“You know what you can do for me? You can tell me what’s up because you’ve been running around like a monster all day.”</p><p>Peter laughs at that, Michelle sensing the exhaustion emanating off of him as he says, “You got an hour?”</p><p>Michelle shrugs.</p><p>“I got infinity.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Michelle listened patiently as Peter ranted, pacing back and forth and waving his hands around. In life, she didn’t have the patience to serve as the emotional sounding board for any man. Yet in listening to Peter, Michelle got the sense that Peter rarely allowed himself the chance to unwind and actually say what he feels around anyone - much less someone he was arguably supposed to be “serving”.</p><p>“And it’s just so exhausting you know? Always having to listen to people whine and complain when, news flash, you’re living in a fucking paradise!” Peter half-yells, Michelle nodding. </p><p>“Emotional work is real work,” she offers, Peter nodding so hard that he looks almost like a bobblehead. </p><p>“Yes! Exactly! And the only reason I’m even doing all of this is because of May--”</p><p>“Your aunt.”</p><p>“Yeah, she’s-- she’s all I got left. And I know she wants to see Ben again and I get that, I do too. But there’s no <em> guarantee </em> and if she uploaded then… then there is.”</p><p>Peter sighs, his shoulders sagging before he comes to sit beside Michelle on the park bench she’s at. She waits for him to compose himself, eyeing him up and down as he sighs again - leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs as he rubs a hand over his face.</p><p>“I guess,” Peter says quietly, “my biggest fear is that she’ll die too and that’s it. That I’ll never find anyone who understands me like that or loves me unconditionally.“</p><p>It’s so blatantly vulnerable, so raw and quiet that Michelle isn’t sure how to respond - getting from Peter’s physical demeanor that he didn’t say it necessarily <em> for </em> a response. Michelle had never been very good with emotions in the abstract and death apparently hadn’t given her any kind of insight or wisdom to how to make it better.</p><p>But it seems to be enough for Peter, exhaling loudly out of his mouth before leaning back and saying, “Thanks. I feel a lot better now.” </p><p>Michelle shrugs. “I didn’t do anything but listen.”</p><p>Peter just smiles at her, Michelle smiling back as Peter puts his hand up in a similar motion to the rating system built in place for her. </p><p>“Pretend I’m giving you five stars.”</p><p>Michelle laughs at that, catching Peter’s smile as she does. </p><p>The captialistic hellscape that was Asgard certainly wasn’t something that Michelle could really say she was <em> enjoying </em> in so many words. Not to mention the troubling implications that Tony had brought up, wondering just how much of an accident her own death was - something she could easily dismiss as being a conspiracy theory but knowing all too well that things weren’t always what they seemed. </p><p>Yet moments like this - laughing and joking with Peter - gave Michelle a much needed moment of levity, making her feel more alive than she’d ever felt since her death. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Funeral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My endless love to Grace, the wind beneath my wings</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is depressing.”</p><p>“No,” Betty says cheerfully, Michelle barely holding back the eye roll she desperately wants to give as Berry continues, “look at all those people.”</p><p>“People I don’t even know,” Michelle whispers to her - the frown on her face deepening as she watches Harry flit back and forth between party guests.</p><p>Harry had gone to great lengths to make her funeral “the event of a lifetime” - his words, not hers - yet all Michelle could think as she looked at the screen that it all looked just as empty and as hollow as the urn placed in the center of the room.</p><p>Michelle’s body wasn’t there, stored away for “safe-keeping” or wherever the hell Asgard kept the bodies when they uploaded. She knew that different places had different procedures, the less expensive ones going so far as to actually remove the heads of the uploads as a means of transferring consciousness.</p><p>Michelle shivers at that, knowing that while Asgard had an entirely different process, one advertised as humane and gentle, it still didn’t negate the truth of the matter.</p><p>Michelle was dead. She was attending her own funeral. And if she was alive, it would be the absolute weirdest thing she had ever endured.</p><p>As it stands, Michelle this was still top ten of the weirdest things she’s seen in the afterlife - Betty’s initial unwanted presence now feeling comforting for how terribly alone she feels.</p><p>She can’t help but wish that Peter was there with her, something she immediately shoves aside as ridiculous. Peter wasn't technically supposed to have told her his name, much less hang out with her like he had the other day. Besides, Michelle thinks - for as comforting as it would be to have someone that wasn't Betty with her, inviting someone to your own funeral was grim even for Michelle.</p><p>Her mom is nowhere to be seen, Michelle grinding her teeth at the idea that the Osborn’s would’ve barred her entry into her only daughter’s funeral. But it was fitting, all things considered - her eyes landing on Norman Osborn who was staring straight at her.</p><p>At least it looked like he was, Michelle couldn’t be sure since the screen that was projecting the funeral to her in Asgard also served as a mirror - projecting her and Betty to the variety of funeral guests.</p><p>Michelle’s suspicions are confirmed when Norman gives some pleasantries to the people around him before making a beeline towards Michelle. </p><p>“Michelle. How is everything?” Norman asks, Michelle pressing her lips together as she studies the man.</p><p>If Harry was shallow, silly and vain - Norman was the kind of person that Michelle avoided all costs, regretting that she didn’t break up with Harry sooner before she unwittingly signed her afterlife to being stuck under the Osborn’s thumb. </p><p>Harry would tell her stories that on its surface sounded benign but Michelle - far too observant for her own good - could read between the lines. Norman was a manipulator, found power through his sense of control and was a terrible father in more ways than one.</p><p>Yet Michelle had essentially signed her afterlife away to him, forcing herself to smile as he looks at her. </p><p>“It’s fine,” Michelle says carefully, Betty fidgeting next to her in anticipation as she says, “you know. Still dead.”</p><p>Norman smiles, a smarmy one that Michelle doesn’t trust for a second as he turns to Betty. “And who might you be?”</p><p>“Hi! Oh my God, I love you. The work that you and Oscorp have done is--”</p><p>“This is Betty,” Michelle interjects, cutting Betty off from embarrassing herself in front of Norman much less the room that the two of them are being projected into. “She’s one of the other uploads who wanted to come and… celebrate.” </p><p>Norman’s smile stays the same, nodding once as Betty for once in their shared afterlife has the good sense to be quiet when he turns back to Michelle. </p><p>“I’m glad to see that you’re doing well, Michelle. Well, as well as is to be expected.”</p><p>Michelle presses her lips together, ready to say something in return only for Harry to walk up - a smile on his face when he sees them.</p><p>“MJ, look at you. You’re beautiful! Of course, you’re always beautiful. So glad you wore the green dress,” he says with a smile, putting an arm around Norman. “See dad, look at us. All together again.”</p><p>“Not quite,” Michelle says, Norman’s eyes flashing with something dangerous as she asks, “Where’s my mom?”</p><p>Harry’s face falls, going to say something only for Norman to cut him off as he says, “Mrs. Jones was unable to make it out today.”</p><p>Michelle frowns, “My <em> mom </em> wasn’t able to come to my own funeral?”</p><p>Harry looks uncomfortable and Betty is fidgeting once again by her side, Norman staring her down as he says, “It’s an unfortunate thing, to lose a child. Your mother may not have been up to seeing you again.”</p><p><em> Bullshit </em>, Michelle thinks wanting to argue when Harry says, “I thought she was on the guest list. I can see if--”</p><p>“That’s enough, Harry. We don’t want to bore our guests,” Norman says curly, Harry immediately shutting down as Michelle glares at the two of them. </p><p>Harry for his part looks contrite, glancing to his father to try and say something more only to freeze when Norman glares at him. </p><p>This was supposed to be <em> her </em> funeral, <em> her </em> celebration for a life that was cut short entirely too soon - only to be uploaded into a capitalistic hellscape.</p><p>Her mom had loved her fiercely, there’s nothing she can think of that would keep her mother from being here today - no matter how hard it would be. Michelle didn’t like to dwell on her decision, knowing all too well that it couldn’t be undone. </p><p>But staring at the two of them, a fury building that she hasn’t felt in her chest since she was still alive - Michelle couldn’t help but wonder just what other secrets Norman and Harry were keeping from her. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey you okay?” </p><p>“Hmm?” Peter asks, moving the headset out of the way as he glances over to Ned. There’s concern written all over his face, Peter sitting up slightly as he motions towards the screen. “Nothing, it’s-- just one of the uploads looks kind of down.”</p><p>“Who?” Ned asks curiously, rolling over in his chair to look at Peter’s screen. His mouth makes a little ‘o’, nodding his head as he says, “Ohhh MJ huh?”</p><p>“Why did you say it like that?” Peter asks, Ned giving him a look as he rolls back over to his desk. </p><p>“Come on man, everyone has them.”</p><p>“What?” Peter asks, feeling like he’s missing something as Ned just smirks. </p><p>“Upload crushes. You know,” Ned raises his eyebrows suggestively, “you and MJ.”</p><p>“No Ned, I’m not-- it’s not that. I’m just--”</p><p>“Being a good angel?” </p><p>Peter glares at him, Ned just smiling as he throws his hands up. </p><p>“I’m telling you, man. It’s okay, we all have them.”</p><p>“Do <em> you </em>?” Peter asks, suddenly curious as Ned smiles and nods once more.</p><p>“Oh yeah definitely. Betty Brant?”</p><p>“Annoying Peace Corps girl?” Peter asks incredulously, Ned sighing dreamily as he says, “Yeah. She’s great.”</p><p>“She died taking a selfie on an ancient burial ground.”</p><p>“And MJ died crashing a self-driving car,” Ned counters, “we all make mistakes. Shouldn’t have to be condemned for the rest of their lives for them.” Ned makes a face. “Well, afterlife I guess.”</p><p>Peter’s eyebrows furrow as Ned says, “Anyway, it’s not like we can do anything about it.”</p><p>“Yeah it’s weird, creepy and completely unprofessional,” Peter says in a rush, catching Ned’s eyebrow raise as he says, “I mean, you know. If I had a crush on her or anything.”</p><p>“So you’ve thought about it.”</p><p>“Shut up, Ned,” Peter says, turning away from his best friend and back to the screen in front of him - hearing him snicker as Ned mutters something under his breath.</p><p>Ned puts his headset back on but Peter is lost in his thoughts, staring at the screen in front of him and at Michelle who was currently sketching something while overlooking her balcony. </p><p>Despite what Ned had said, he hadn’t ever had an ‘upload crush’ before. It <em> was </em> weird, a gross power imbalance that until Michelle had been uploaded he hadn’t really ever considered the uploads as people. It was easier to separate himself from them, to make it as if they were just digital copies rather than real people with real lives that didn’t exist anymore.</p><p>It was hypocritical, Peter willfully believed what he had told her to get her to stay in Asgard - it’s his own earnest belief in a life after death, albeit digitally, that propelled him into working there for the sake of keeping May with him for as long as he possibly could.</p><p>Yet ever since Michelle had been uploaded, Peter had wrestled more and more with the difficulty of what it actually <em> meant </em> for someone to be in this afterlife - much less his own role in maintaining her “life” in a place that seemed more and more that she hadn’t asked for. </p><p>The reminder that Michelle had died in a self-driving car accident causes him to frown, tapping his fingers against his desk as he thinks. </p><p>He had made a mental note to try and figure out how that was possible but had never gotten around to it, wondering how that had slipped his mind. Yet staring at the screen in front of him, watching as Michelle continued sketching the landscape, a sinking feeling in the pit of Peter’s stomach grew as he did. </p><p>He didn’t know what it was, nor did he really have desire to really think about it any more than he had to. </p><p>Michelle was his job - first and foremost. And from what he could see, having watched her wander aimlessly around for the past few days he’d been logged in - he was sure something was bothering her, more than what had been before. </p><p>He was glad she had the sketchbook, Felicia’s notes telling him that it was a request she had asked for when he wasn’t on shift. </p><p>As Michelle continued to sketch, completely absorbed in her work - Peter watched her, as he was supposed to for his job, yet wondering for the first time if it should be.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You still brooding about?” </p><p>Michelle sighed, gritting her teeth as she sketched out on one of the open patios. </p><p>“Don’t you have other people you can annoy? It’s the afterlife, I’d like to have some peace,” Michelle says, hearing Tony snort as he walks up to her. </p><p>He sits beside her, Michelle forcing herself to focus on the sketch before her - Tony sitting back in the chair and throwing his legs out in front of the ottoman in front of it. </p><p>“You know you’re right, this spot is perfectly peaceful,” he says with a dramatic sigh, Michelle barely holding back an eye roll as she glances at him. </p><p>His eyes are closed, hands folded over his chest in a mock of a funeral pose - Michelle grinding her teeth once more at the memory of her own failed funeral. The days in Asgard passed by in a blur but it still bothered her, Harry putting off her requests in trying to contact her mother. </p><p>She had tried - time and time again - to dial out to her only for the call to be unavailable, only to find out from the blonde angel that the Osborn’s had put a block to her outgoing calls. It was ridiculous, something that she immediately tried to argue with Harry about only to be continued to be pushed off - Harry being now busy with her upcoming birthday celebrations. </p><p>Michelle didn’t understand the point of celebrating a birthday when she technically wouldn’t ever age but she wasn’t going to argue with Harry about it, not when he only ever took her calls to regale her with more stories about all the fabulous outfits and party favors she couldn’t stomach to think about. </p><p>It made Michelle miss her mother even more, miss all her old friends - Liz most of all, wondering not for the first time why Liz wasn’t also in attendance at the funeral. </p><p>A part of her itches to talk to someone about it, immediately thinking of Peter and how warm and friendly he had been. Michelle quickly dismisses that, knowing that for as much as Peter appeared to care about her when in the end - it was just his job. </p><p>The blonde angel had proven that, giving her the sketch book and being casually dismissive - something in Michelle telling her that Peter’s thoughtfulness had to go beyond just great customer service. </p><p>But before she can think of it anymore, Tony loudly sighs next to her - Michelle scowling as she looks over at him. </p><p>“What is your problem?” She asks, Tony settling further into the chair next to her. </p><p>“Haven’t you heard darling? I have no problems.”</p><p>He opens his eyes, has the audacity to wink at her before mouthing, ‘it’s the afterlife’. </p><p>“Can’t you just go and annoy someone else? <em> Please </em>,” Michelle says, looking back at her sketchpad as she mutters, “I’m sure someone here wants to listen to you.”</p><p>“And that my dear is exactly why I like being around you,” Tony says, Michelle looking back at him despite herself as he grins. “You don’t give a damn about me.”</p><p>“Okay? Go down to Queens, there’s hundreds of us,” Michelle says, Tony snorting with laughter as he sits up.</p><p>“See? That right there. You genuinely don’t give a shit. People around here,” he waves to the air, “they’re still trying to be a kiss ass even though the only power we have is paid for by the outside world.”</p><p>“Maybe they think you can do something for them,” Michelle says, Tony nodding thoughtfully.</p><p>“Maybe but,” Tony motions his hands around once more, “doesn’t make our <em> experience </em> any easier. I got enough of that in life, I want some peace in death.”</p><p>“Peace being around someone who doesn’t like you? Damn Stark, you got more issues than I thought,” Michelle says, Tony laughing once again - the sound of it making Michelle laugh despite herself. </p><p>“You know, I think if we’d met when we were alive, I would’ve given you a job on the spot.”</p><p>Michelle raised an eyebrow. “<em> Really </em>?” </p><p>“Well,” Tony concedes, “the chances of us meeting in life would’ve been slim to none--”</p><p>“More like impossible.”</p><p>“<em> But </em> if we had, I’m sure of it. My wife…” Tony pauses, getting a faraway expression on his face, “she was always a good judge of character.”</p><p>“I didn’t know you were married,” Michelle says, wracking her brain to try and remember this even if she’s well aware that the lives of the rich and famous were well below her radar. </p><p>Tony smiles at that, Michelle seeing the sadness in his eyes as he says, “Nobody did. She was my assistant, for the longest time. Don’t give me that look,” he says, Michelle making a face as he continues, “I didn’t force her into anything.”</p><p>Michelle looks as if she doesn’t believe him, Tony sighing as he sits up. “I don’t expect you to believe me. The power imbalance there is… not lost on me.” </p><p>Tony looks away then, his attention shifted elsewhere but Michelle gets the distinct impression that he was seeing something that wasn’t there as he says, “But I loved her and she-- she loved me. We married in secret, to keep her safe. Happiest few years of my life.”</p><p>“What happened?” Michelle asks, feeling curious though from the look on Tony’s face she has a good guess as to where this story leads. </p><p>He confirms it, turning back to her as he says, “She died. Childbirth, if you can believe it. All the technology we have and yet she still died from something as old as time.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Michelle says quietly, Tony nodding as he says, “It’s been a long time now. When she and Morgan, our daughter-- when they died, there didn’t feel like much of a point to anything anymore.”</p><p>“Is that where the philanthropist part your moniker comes in?” Michelle asks, putting the pieces together for why Tony Stark’s sudden shift into giving money to the poor and disenfranchised suddenly made more sense.  </p><p>“It was, much to the chagrin of my board of directors. I wondered how long it would take for them to shuttle me off but…” Tony trails off, smiling as he rubs his hands together. </p><p>“Wait, are you saying you were--”</p><p>“Murdered? Pushed off this mortal coil intentionally? Yes, I have my suspicions. Not much I can do about them here,” Tony says as he waves his hands around, Michelle thinking that he’s entirely too calm considering the content of the conversation they’re having as she sits up. </p><p>“How the hell are you so nonchalant about all of this?”</p><p>“Cause it’s done,” Tony says plainly, Michelle just feeling more confused and indignant as Tony continues, “and besides, it confirms my suspicions that the Board wasn’t as oblivious to Pepper and I’s relationship as I thought.”</p><p>Michelle’s mouth drops open, reeling from everything that Tony is implying as he quietly says, “She didn’t upload. She never wanted to, never liked the idea of it. Makes sense that my punishment for deigning to walk outside the company line would be to be stuck here forever, without her.”</p><p>Michelle closes her mouth, heart constricting in empathy to Tony as he meets her gaze - smiling at her once more as he says, “So you see, I understand you Ms. Jones. I don’t know what brought you here though I have my suspicions. I like being around you because you remind me of my wife, the kind of woman I would’ve wanted my daughter to have been like, had she been given the chance.”</p><p>Michelle feels speechless, an unfamiliar feeling as Tony slaps his hands against his thighs. </p><p>“But if you’d rather be alone, I’ll leave you to it.”</p><p>Michelle looks at him, studying him for a moment before saying, “Is any of that true? Or did you just say that to manipulate me into wanting to be around you?’</p><p>Tony lets out a huff, shaking his head as he interlaces his hands together. “Now Ms. Jones, do you really think that’s something that I would do?”</p><p>“Yes,” Michelle says without missing a beat, Tony laughing a bit more loudly as he shakes his head once more. </p><p>“I deserve that. But no, I did not make all of that up. Did I hope that it would give you some sympathy to let an old man appreciate your company? Yes. But,” Tony looks back at her, Michelle seeing the truth written all over his face as he says, “I wouldn’t lie about this.”</p><p>They stare at each other for a moment, Michelle nodding for him to stay, Tony leaning back into his chair as she asks,  “What was she like?”</p><p>“Pepper? Oh Ms. Jones, I could talk about her all day,” Tony says with a grin. </p><p>Michelle smirks, looking at him pointedly. </p><p>“We have all of eternity.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There’s something bothering Michelle but what it is, Peter’s not sure. </p><p>Felicia’s been less than helpful, the next few days passing with little to no incident but anytime he checks in with Michelle - the more concerned he gets. </p><p>Unlike every other upload under his care, Michelle asks for very little - watching in amusement as she debates with Tony Stark about clean water initiatives or ends up getting wrangled into a tennis game with Betty Brant. </p><p>He checks in every so often, more so than he ever has before - especially as a full-on projection to an upload. But there’s something about her, something about her life, her death and who she is that draws Peter in - to the point where he can’t stop thinking about her, long after he’s clocked out for the day. </p><p>It’s something that’s enough to distract him even with Johnny on top of him, his hot breath against his neck as he trails gentle kisses along his cheek.</p><p>“You doing okay?” He hears Johnny ask, Peter nodding as he says, “Yeah, yeah I’m okay.”</p><p>Johnny sits up, Peter looking at him with a bewildered expression as he shifts away from him. </p><p>“You say that but you,” Johnny taps against his temple, “haven’t been here. I’m into this thing we got going on but I’m pretty firm about consent. If you’re not into this--”</p><p>“I am, I promise. I’m just--”</p><p>“Tired,” Johnny fills in for him, a sad smile on his face. “Busy. Distracted. Lots to do at work.”</p><p>Peter feels like a deer caught in headlights, Johnny just smiling at him as he takes Peter’s hand. </p><p>“I like you, Pete. You’re nice, really funny. Hot as fuck.”</p><p>Peter laughs, Johnny smiling a bit more as he squeezes Peter’s hand, “And I get that this is just a casual thing, I’m okay with that. But I’d like to think that I can ask that when you’re with me that you’re <em> with </em> me.” </p><p>Johnny loosens his grip on his hand, Peter searching his face as he says, “I’m not gonna ask you to give me an answer tonight but,” he kisses Peter, gently before leaning back, “think about it.”</p><p>It’s something that Peter hasn’t stopped thinking about - days after his conversation with Johnny and tapping his fingers against the desk as he stares at Michelle. </p><p>He knows what May would say if he told her what was running through his mind - that any crush he could have on an upload, something he refuses to really even acknowledge - pales in comparison to a warm, flesh-blooded, <em> alive </em> person. </p><p>There’s a sinking feeling in his gut the longer he stares at Michelle - conflicting feels flowing through him at the reality that for as much as he likes Michelle, there’s very little chance of anything happening between them not just because she was dead but that Peter was quite literally in control of her digital afterlife.</p><p>Despite this, the recognition of their imbalance and the impossibility of their connection - it’s still there - the knowledge that he feels <em> something </em> for Michelle though what, he’s not really sure. </p><p>Peter can’t really afford to risk it, in more ways than one - much less even think about forcing something on a person who clearly has had little choice in her current state of existence. </p><p>But Peter feels it all the same, swallowing down the uncomfortable feeling in his throat as he looks to Michelle once more before logging off for the day. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and comments are always appreciated. <a href="https://seek-rest.tumblr.com">Come hang out with me on tumblr.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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